


A New Tradition

by WastingYourGum



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, First Christmas, Inappropriate Use of Musical Instruments, M/M, anthea ships it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 02:01:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21500011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WastingYourGum/pseuds/WastingYourGum
Summary: Mycroft arrives home late one night and realises he should probably have mentioned his dislike of Christmas to his new husbandbeforeGreg went totally tinsel...
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 15
Kudos: 138
Collections: Mystrade Holiday 2019





	A New Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thank you to Blue_Posey for brilliant beta-ing :)

"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire…"

_Oh God..._

"Jack Frost nipping at your nose…"

Under any other circumstances Mycroft would've been delighted to come home late on a Friday night to hear his husband singing. Greg's singing voice was as gorgeous as the rest of him and it was usually a sign he was relaxed and contented.

But it was the end of November and Greg was singing _that_ kind of song. Mycroft had thought - hoped - he had at least another week before they had to have this conversation.

He reluctantly pushed open the door to the lounge and almost physically recoiled at the tinsel-draped, twinkling atrocity now looming over the entire room from the corner by the fire. Where was a box of matches and a can of petrol when you needed them?

"Mycroft! You're just in time!" Greg finished hanging what must've been the four-hundredth bauble on the tree and turned to greet him. He was already in his dressing gown and slippers and exuding cosiness and cheer like someone in a high-street store advertisement.

"Greg, isn't this a little…", tasteless, gaudy, over the top, "...early?" Mycroft asked.

Greg scooped up two glasses of whisky from the table and brought them over. He handed one to Mycroft. "I know, but I had some free time today and I just couldn't wait. I had thought we might do it together - you know, first Christmas living together and all that - but Anthea said you were going to be late tonight and wouldn't mind if I did it myself so I thought I'd surprise you."

Mycroft would be having a stern word with Anthea first thing on Monday morning. She was all too aware of his opinion on decorations.

"I am indeed surprised."

"You don't like it." Greg's face fell.

It took Mycroft's stomach with it. It made him feel sick to see his beloved unhappy in any way.

"No, Greg, it's not-- I'm not used to-- I don't usually decorate for Christmas."

"Not at all?"

Mycroft shook his head and took a large swig of his drink.

"Why not? Do you not like Christmas or something?"

Mycroft took a deep breath. "It's crassly over-commercialised, I'm not at all religious and the enforced interaction with my family is a form of torture the Inquisition would've been proud of."

Greg laughed. "Yeah, but apart from that…"

"Greg…"

"OK. Look." Greg put down his drink, held up three fingers and counted off Mycroft's objections. "We buy each other really small, inexpensive gifts, we don't go anywhere near a church and we send our apologies to your parents. Tell them we both have the flu or something. Does that make you feel a little less 'Bah humbuggy'?"

"It certainly alleviates some of my misgivings."

"And I can take the tree down again, no problem."

"No. No, leave it. Please. You've gone to no small trouble and done a wonderful job of it. Besides, we'll need something to put the presents under."

"The small, inexpensive presents."

"Not necessarily. I do love to spoil you."

"Mmm, well I suppose I can let you away with it. Especially since I already got most of yours."

"Most of?"

"There's a lot of space under that tree - and still some on it, which reminds me..."

Greg reached back to the table and picked up a black and gold patterned box wrapped with a silver ribbon. He handed it to Mycroft. "Here."

"To go under the tree?"

"Nope. This one is for now."

Mycroft opened the box and lifted aside the tissue paper he found at the top of it. Underneath was a stunning Venetian glass ornament that sparked a moment of recollection.

"You bought this on our honeymoon. I remember seeing it in one of the shops we visited."

"Yes, I did. I thought it would be a nice reminder."

Mycroft lifted the ornament carefully from its box. He spotted the gap in the decorations Greg had deliberately left for it and hung it on the tree.

"It's beautiful. Thank you."

"You're welcome. It's your turn to buy me one next year. New tradition."

"I will. I'll even help decorate."

Greg smiled and held up his glass. "God bless us, every one."

Mycroft picked his glass up and clinked it against Greg's. "Bah, humbug."

They both took a drink and watched the firelight sparkle off the newest addition to the tree.

"So…" Greg lifted the glass from Mycroft's hand and put it and his back down on the table.

"So?" Mycroft asked. He knew _that_ look.

Greg tugged the cord of his dressing gown and let it fall open. He wasn't wearing anything underneath and Mycroft's eyes were instantly drawn down to a strategically placed red ribbon and, glinting gold amongst thick dark curly hair…

 _Oh God_ , thought Mycroft, for the second time that night but for an entirely different reason.

Greg raised a suggestive eyebrow and twitched a muscle in his lower abdomen, producing a familiar - and very Christmassy - sound. "Want to jingle my bells?"

"You are a wicked boy and I shall make sure Father Christmas knows it."

Greg grinned. "Better not tell him what I plan to do to you with the leftover tinsel then."

Mycroft slid his arms around Greg's waist inside the dressing gown and pulled their bodies together. "I think Christmas may be growing on me."

"No, that would be my co--" Greg's reply was lost against Mycroft's mouth as his husband soundly kissed him.

What they did _after_ decorating the tree was never officially part of the new tradition - but somehow never a year went by after that without it being repeated...

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Mystrade Christmas Prompt generator which gave me:  
> This story takes place **late at night**.  
> You must mention **chestnuts** ,  
> use the word **'jingle'** ,  
> and include this line of dialogue:  
>  **"Yeah, but apart from that..."**


End file.
